Sadness by Claire Askew

You walk in and I can seeyou’re defeated — with everysexy angle smoothed awayyou’re cold and sadas a paperweight.You’ve tried to hidebehind a clean shirtand scent that clings like inkto my hands, keeps me awake for hours, but I can seethe scraps of sadness’ feaststicking in your teeth and hair.It’s on you like a brand, darkand bittersweet as blood, my hungry gaze. I wantto haul it out of youand thrash its sticky blacknessover stones, jealous of the stifling hold it has.I place my handsface up on the table, their insides pale as flagsof surrender, and saygive it to me to deal withlater. Let me take the midnight watchso you can sleep.